Longings, page 10
I stopped there, hiding the diary quickly in a desk drawer as a car honked outside the gate.
“Ah, Hằng is home!” Bí shrieked with joy, appearing suddenly behind me.
Leaving me there, she darted toward the gate to greet her. The burgundy car pulled into the driveway. Behind the wheel was a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. His square face was stern. Beside him was Hằng. She signaled him to stop the car and got out to walk toward me while the man calmly turned the car around toward the big house. Her silk blouse and sweater made her look even more enigmatic than the last time I had seen her. Perhaps what I had read in The Haunted Garden Diary was still resonating with me, making me see her differently.
She rushed to me, offering a convivial hug.
“Did you just arrive? How’s everything so far?”
“Yes, and I love the retreat.”
“I thought you would,” she smiled and said. “That’s why I asked Bí to take you there. She’s dull and knows nothing. Don’t listen to her gibberish.”
“See, Hằng said you know nothing!” I turned to Bí and said jokingly.
Bí gave me the side-eye and then left with a raised fist as a threat. I smiled in solidarity with her.
“Call Bí if you need anything,” Hằng said. “She may not be smart, but she is kindhearted. Now, please go take a shower and have dinner. Make yourself at home. When you are ready, we can talk. I have a brick factory a few miles away from here, so I’m quite busy. I knew you would come today, but I had to pay my workers their monthly salary so I couldn’t stay home to welcome you. I hope you aren’t upset.”
I wandered through the haunted garden and reached for a ripe orange, not expecting to be stung by bees. I flung the orange away and sat down on the grass and held my swollen hand, moaning. Bí quickly picked a Katuk plant near me, chewed it up, and dabbed the pulp on my swollen thumb.
Bí pouted.
“C’mon, it’s a minor injury, stop moaning. When we first came here and planted this garden and built the house, Hằng and I had so many challenges. We slept outdoors and got soaked overnight by dew. We lived like that for a year before the house was finished. Back then this garden was a wild forest filled with snakes and wild animals. We finally were able to move into the home, once we had tamed everything. There wasn’t even a bridge to the house back then,” Bí proudly added. “From the main street to the garden, we had to wade through the two cold canals!”
I looked around the garden. I could leisurely stroll across the bridge thanks to its owner’s sweat, which had once moistened every concrete block. The bridge spanned a human life. The fragrance of the flowers, the sound of the bees hovering, and the garden’s sweet honey hadn’t come about naturally. I sensed the pain of the person who had made it possible. Even if she was not an exceptional girl, Bí had the right to be proud of her work. I couldn’t imagine an elegant, gracious lady like Hằng ever rolling up her pants to wade through canals and weed and till the soil, and plant trees in a place filled with dangerous creatures while enduring the scorching heat and the frigid cold.
“Did Tuấn help you? Is he strong?” I asked Bí.
“Can buffalos fly?” Bí pouted her lips and said. “He went out to receive alms during the day. At night, he would meditate under some trees or simply wander about. Hằng cried her eyes out because of him.”
Bí pointed at the trees. “Hằng had planted those because she wanted Tuấn to be comfortable during meditation. But after we had planted them, he stayed only a couple of days before leaving. Hằng and I were deathly afraid of ghosts. Thus, Tuấn had to come stay in the big house with us.”
I smiled and looked at my shoes, thinking how strange Tuấn was.
I knew enough about the haunted garden to start my work at the retreat. I didn’t explain why I had made this trip to the “haunted garden.” Perhaps spending the Tết holiday alone in Sài Gòn would be unbearable for me. Or maybe it was because of Hằng’s kind eyes when I first met her at the architectural association meeting where she invited me to visit her hometown to help design some vacation homes that would complement her garden. She wanted to turn the garden into an ecotourism site.
I could already envision the surreal but familiar houses I would design so that tourists could get lost in the haunted garden and feel as if they were living in a modern fairy land. It would be a tough task but I would work tirelessly at it.
Throughout all my efforts, Bí was a good companion. She quietly brought me trays of bananas, milk fruits, grapefruits, and apples from the garden. During breaks, she entertained me with endless stories about the people in this desolate garden: “Tuấn is very picky. He only eats what Hằng cooks. Because he never remarried, his possessions were split up evenly among his children. People said Hằng hindered Tuấn. I despise those widows so much that I just laughed and told them, ‘Hằng lives as if she were married to Tuấn, and it’s good for both of them.’ I lash out whenever someone says something repulsive about them.”
Bí smiled at me. Her meandering stories made me love Hằng even more. Everyone has secret places in their lives and I dared not tread into those dark shadows. Whenever Hằng dropped by the retreat, I made only small talk and didn’t inquire about her private life. She was very upfront when talking about business matters but more cryptic when discussing personal affairs. Her enigmatic nature intrigued me. The big house belonged to another world, a world that no one, including myself, was invited to explore. If I knew what life was like in that house, the world would become boring. Having read The Haunted Garden Diary was sufficient.
The retreat where I stayed had a sacred, religious atmosphere. Adhere strictly to oneself is the motto of a Buddhist practitioner, and We have to die with what we know—these two beautiful aphorisms were inscribed in white chalk on the retreat’s walls. They revealed that Tuấn was a knowledgeable, gifted person. Why did a handsome, wealthy, and highly educated man confine his life to a temple? Was it because of his promise to break his family’s curse or was he always destined to devote his life to prayer? Well, forget him. I had to return to the work of designing the houses that would harmonize with the unsettling garden.
I offered Hằng several designs to choose from. She was amazed that I could finish the project so quickly.
“A charismatic, beautiful, and smart girl like you must have plenty of suitors!” she said while looking at me.
I laughed, casually.
“How naive you are! I’m the least fortunate girl ever to have lived. I’ve been alone for the last thirty years.”
“You must be kidding!” She pinched my nose, thought for a moment, and said, “If my brother Tuấn were not a monk, he would be a great match.”
“Why did he opt for that life?” I struggled to suppress a laugh and asked.
“It was his choice,” Hằng said, looking into the distance. “I disapproved but ultimately realized that he must have his reasons. I’ve also wrestled with my difficult life, but I have no choice. I almost died in a fire, too!”
I understood that Hằng was opening the door to her soul. Perhaps she had suffered alone for too long and wanted finally to confide in someone else. Thus she invited me to partake of her innermost secrets.
“He went everywhere in that orange robe with an offering bowl in his hand,” she explained, with misty eyes. “He endured place after place just to lift the curse. I’ve tried all kinds of things to break it, too. My way was to stay here and support this family. While doing that, I had to deal with rumors that I was a home-wrecker, a wanton, a gold digger. Alas, what else could I do to support my sister’s children who had lost their mother at such young ages? I’m so isolated in this garden, but I won’t give up. Thank you for coming to help me. One day this garden will be a popular tourist destination and no longer be seen as a haunted garden.”
Hằng’s chin set firmly. Her bold nature returned to her face and I could again recognize the practical businesswoman who meticulously calculated her workers’ salaries and tasks. Her head was once again filled with figures and plans. What for? Of course, not just for herself. Her youth had passed while she was doing those endless transactions to support her mother, her brother, and her six children. But there was some regret in her voice when she talked about her brother.
“For my kids, I’ve fulfilled my duties; now I’m worried about Tuấn. I’m saving this land for him, but he’s left for some unknown place. Is he cold? Hungry? I don’t know. My heart will ache when I see the apricot flowers blooming this spring.”
“How old is he now?”
“Forty.”
“Why don’t you find some girl to keep him back here?” I said with a mischievous smile.
Hằng shook her head.
“I did everything, but beautiful girls are like logs to him. I’ve never seen a single flame of lust in his eyes!”
“Want to bet? I’ll win his heart!” I said. Something reckless broke out in me.
Hằng just smiled.
“I would be so thankful if you could do that. I would gift you this entire garden!”
“I’m afraid that you’ll regret that offer.”
“You won’t be able to do it,” Hằng said with great confidence.
“If I really want something, I always get it!”
“Let’s wait and see. Well, I must go to the factory now,” Hằng said, hesitantly.
Once she left, I grabbed a book from the shelf to read. The cool breeze lulled me to sleep.
I woke up to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Standing before me was a young, tall monk. He looked at me with indifferent eyes as he dropped his bag onto the wooden floor.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know someone was staying here,” the monk said.
He joined his hands in prayer before his chest and looked off at the yellow bamboo trees. He seemed undisturbed by the scattered furniture and the clutter of home designs I had spread on the table. I quietly observed him to be a strange creature who came from another world—one that held some sober, sophisticated charm. He had a strong body with stout legs and an aloof facial expression. If he didn’t have a shaved head and orange robes, he would be the most perfect man I had ever met in my life. It seemed that he was able to pick up on my mischievous thoughts and a canny smile flashed across his face.
“When did you come back?” I asked, unable to stand the silence.
Tuấn frowned.
“Did my sister Hằng tell you about me?”
I pointed at Tuấn’s inscription on the walls that read, We must die with what we know, and then teased him, “You must know many things.”
“No one dares say they know everything.”
“Someone like you will never die.”
“That’s not important. Everything changes over time, especially a fragile human.”
“I’m not fragile,” I argued. “Humans like me can craft gigantic architecture.”
“Who can say nothing will collapse someday?” Tuấn said while glancing at the mess of designs on the table.
I was speechless, realizing that this man must have caused Hằng limitless torment over the years. He had become someone who placed faith in the act of praying and he would die for his belief. I became embarrassed by my mere presence in his space, but I had no choice because Hằng was not home yet. Ah, while waiting for her, I would pick at this man.
“Why did you choose to be a monk?” I asked, looking at his fading bag.
Tuấn seemed to grow pale. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. After a while, he pointed toward the lotus pond and said, “Mud, water, and lotus. I want myself to be as pure as those lotus flowers that reach for the light even when submerged in muddy water. What’s wrong with trying to submerge one’s troubles?”
I stared at him with an open mouth, feeling something burning in my heart. I couldn’t control myself so I walked away.
“I’m going to take a walk in the garden,” I said.
He remained silent. I had to stay away from that weird monk in his orange robe. Damn all his things scattered around the retreat! Lost in my thoughts, I stepped on a shriveled slug. The stench of mud troubled my nose. I headed toward the lotus pond to wash my feet. Ah, lotus flowers, what a gentle, pure scent! My eyes suddenly stung, my feet tried to grip the steps of the pond’s dock. So, he decided to become a monk because he was afraid of a curse and thus found himself a vagabond. Wearing an orange robe, carrying a bowl in his hand, the monk kept walking, weightlessly, but leaving immense burdens on a woman’s shoulders. Hằng had to take care of his six children, her mother, her brother, confront the curse, and deal with all sorts of painful rumors. The haunted garden and an unmarried wife were almost burnt in a fire. Hằng—a stern boss, workaholic, money-lover. She had to rise above all that responsibility and carry on. She didn’t fear slugs and snakes; her slender, torn hands built up this splendid, poetic garden. Oh, I loved her deeply. Perhaps, because I was also a woman, I shared her perspective. Perhaps a woman like me, who had to strive every day to achieve a good life, wasn’t able to understand the meaning of a lotus rising from mud and water.
I was thinking about this when Bí appeared before my eyes.
“Uncle Tuấn’s back. You’re wooing him, aren’t you?” she laughed and teased me.
“No, I am not. Did you think I would do that? Forget about it!” I slapped her shoulders, explaining.
Bí pouted and then left me alone.
Learning that Tuấn was back, Hằng was overjoyed and immediately ran to the retreat. I happened to see their reunion. Tuấn joined his hands together before his chest as if waving away the sister-in-law who was about to hug him. Tears streamed down her face.
“Tuấn, is it you?” asked Hằng.
She rushed to him but stopped mid-way because of his distancing pose. She had to lean against a bodhi tree so that she wouldn’t fall as she held her face and sobbed like a child. I couldn’t detect any emotion on Tuấn’s face.
“I’m going to attend a Buddhist academy for senior monks. I’m here just for a visit because I’m not sure when I can be back,” Tuấn said while looking away.
Hằng tightened her lips and wiped away her tears.
“So please stay here with me for a few days before you leave. I’m glad that you look healthy. Don’t torment yourself anymore. Let me clean this retreat for you. Phương will come stay with me in the big house.”
Tuấn shook his head.
“Let her stay here. I’ll come stay with you in the big house.”
Hằng’s eyes glistened with happiness.
Night fell. Suddenly, the southwest corner of the haunted garden felt desolate. I would be leaving tomorrow, too. This retreat would then become extremely melancholic. I imagined that tomorrow, once night fell, Bí would come and clean the retreat as if her Tuấn were still here. And I would never come back again. A sadness took possession of me. I shooed the girl away because she was always asking questions that would ruin my sweet but painful ruminations.
“Do you know if Tuấn will come here tonight?” Bí turned back and asked before leaving.
Her question frustrated me.
“You’re crazy!”
Walking for a while, she suddenly remembered something.
“Hằng would like for you to join the family for breakfast and then say goodbye to him.”
I looked at the light in the big house. It was Hằng’s world, her private space where I couldn’t and didn’t want to intrude. I loved its mystery. My task in the haunted garden was complete. I would return to my own world, taking with me the secret of this garden. Anyway, I learned something from this journey that made me want to share.
Breakfast was prepared in one of the big house’s rooms that overlooked a grapefruit grove. Hằng’s brother-in-law nodded his head slightly and started eating. Bí carried a big bowl of rice and went to sit in a hidden corner. She was excited about the food but didn’t want to share space with the home’s owners, because she didn’t like being reprimanded. Although Tuấn sat at the same table with his family during his farewell meal, his behavior kept him at a distance. He held his bowl in his left hand, a spoon in his right as he slowly stirred and ate the food. He focused on his rice as if the whole universe had converged there, in the bowl. Even though his sister-in-law wanted to put food in his bowl, she refrained. It was silent at the table and I regretted joining them.
Hằng kept putting food in my bowl. She herself could say nothing. Never had I attended such a dour party. I put my bowl down once the tea was ready. I didn’t know that Hằng was so talented. It turned out she had done all the cooking. Bí was responsible only for some simple things like watering plants and weeding. After the third cup of tea, Tuấn stood up and joined his hands before his chest. Hằng dropped her piece of ginger mid-bite. It was time to say goodbye. She was about to touch the shoulder of her beloved brother, but stopped herself; instead she quietly walked out behind Tuấn. I followed as if in a trance. Our footsteps crunched on the gravel. When we reached the apricot tree that grew beside the wooden gate, Hằng and I stopped as Tuấn waved at us. Without lingering, or looking back, he walked away, step by step, slowly, and placidly.
The monk had left, carrying his alms bowl in his hands. He was walking his path. Yellow apricot flowers blossomed in the sunshine, shivering in the breeze, harmonizing with the monk’s orange robe. He disappeared into the line of apricot trees, becoming a small dot atop the bridge. The wind blowing across the canal made Tuấn’s robe billow. I glanced at Hằng—her eyes were filled with mist.
